The Seductress
by skoreangirl.tina
Summary: "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all the time… and neither am I… who do you want me to be?" The story of the men in Natasha's life and who she becomes for each of them – but ultimately, Clintasha/Romanogers.
1. A Glimpse of the Beginning

Chapter Title: A Glimpse of the Beginning

Time: Pre-Everything

 _Screaming and heat brought Katerina to consciousness. At first all she could see was red. She jerked up, staring wide-eyed at the flames that were licking at her bed. A crash, and she whipped her head to the gaping hole that was now on the floor of her room. She caught sight of a man who jumped out of the window._

 _"Mama!" She yelled at the top of her voice. "Papa!"_

 _"Katerina!-" her mother paused as she broke into a fit of coughing. "R-run! Go!"_

 _Katerina's whole body shook, and she curled up into a tight ball and gave herself a squeeze before jumping through the hole in her room to the window she had just seen a man escape out of. She hit the snow, gasping at the sharp contrast between the heat of her burning home and the chilly Russian air._

 _"Mama," she whispered brokenly._

 _"HELP!" she tried. "HELP! FIRE! FIRE!" Nothing stirred. The streets remained dark and isolated._

 _She started running. "HELP! Please, someone, please!" she rounded the corner and slammed into a giant block of a man._

 _"What are you, child?" he asked dangerously._

 _Katerina swallowed her fear. "My name is Katerina Markowski and I am 4 years old," she rattled off._

 _She paused, wondering if this man was to be trusted. "Please help me," she said._

 _"What is it, child?"_

 _"My parents... a fire..."_

 _"Petrovitch!" a voice growled. "Please, feel free to waste more time on interrogating collateral damage."_

 _"Karenin." Ivan replied shortly. "She's an asset," he added, straightening up._

 _"She's a target."_

 _"She escaped the fire"_

 _"Well, someone must have helped her. And when I find out who..."_

 _"No one helped me," Katerina interrupted. "I helped myself."_

 _Ivan Petrovitch raised his eyebrows pointedly at the man._

 _"Fine," Karenin spat. "But if she is a liability she will be your liability." He left to continue his hunt for survivors._

 _"Come my child," Ivan said, caressing her cheek. "You don't belong in this world."_

 _He pressed a damp cloth to her face, and Katerina's world turned back to black._

 _She awoke again to a flash of red. She was in a metal cell with only a tiny glass window. She had been placed on a cold bed to which she was handcuffed._

 _"You're up," a voice said beside her. He smiled at her._

 _"Where am I?" her voice was hoarse._

 _"There's been... an incident," the man said. "I'm afraid you were placed here because of your rather... disturbing behavior."_

 _"What did I do?" she whispered._

 _"Natalia..."_

 _"Is that who I am?"_

 _"Your name is Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Surely you remember?"_

 _"Of course," she said quickly, trying to hide her distress at her complete lack of memory. "Tell me what I did."_

 _"That doesn't matter, Natalia... you're a criminal - no, a monster. A monster who murdered her own parents deserves no place in this world."_

 _"Why am I here," Natalia spat. "Why didn't you just kill me, then, if no one wants me."_

 _"I want you, Natalia. We, the Red Room, want you." She held her breath. "You may not have a place in this world but you will have a purpose, and that purpose is to do as the Red Room asks - and what I ask._

 _"You could do that for me, couldn't you, my child?" Ivan cradled her cheek._

 _"Yes," Natalia whispered._


	2. The Debt

Title: The Debt

Time: Pre-Avengers

He was watching her. Actually, he'd been watching her for the past two weeks. Standard take-out procedures mandated a five-day observation period, but Clint had requested an extension. He'd told Coulson that he was just being cautious, seeing as his target was the world's second-deadliest assassin and foremost femme fatale, but in truth…

Romanoff appeared in the hotel room, laughing gaily at the side of a rich, bejeweled man who also happened to be a drug dealer financing the private organization that continued the remains of the Red Room. She turned her head slightly and giggled something into his ear, leaving a teasing kiss on his ear. The man smiled and closed the door behind them.

Clint couldn't help but smirk. That dude had it coming.

"Barton. Report on status." Coulson's voice rang out from his earpiece.

"I need more time for surveillance."

"Clint, this is unprecedented. What's the problem?"

Clint. That meant Coulson was talking personally.

"What's the rush? It's the Black freaking Widow."

"What's the rush? Clint – you're running out of excuses."

Romanoff had finished interrogating the dealer, as far as Clint could tell. That is, she was no longer circling him seductively, leaving trails of chaste kisses along his neck and body. In one smooth, elegant move, she wrapped her legs around his head and twisted him to the ground and broke his neck. She reapplied her red lipstick and left her mark on her dead target – a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Oops, gotta go, Coulson," Clint said brightly. "Target's on the move."

"Clint, you take any longer and you'll be called off the mission."

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Fine. I'll do it tomorrow," he muttered.

"Tonight."

"Holy shit Coulson, what if I die for lack of caution?"

"Clint, be serious."

Clint sighed. "Tonight," he agreed.

Someone was watching her. She could feel it, even though for some reason she couldn't locate him. She stepped out of the hotel building where she had eliminated her target and changed out of her ridiculous party dress. She scanned the rooftops around her once more, but finding nothing, frowned slightly and continued in a zigzag pattern to the demolition site where she slept.

Natasha was tired. No, not just her body… she was tired of her life. If she were brave enough, maybe she'd end it. But at the least she wanted to be killed by an equal, with a fight worthy of her skill and prowess. But death remained elusive.

Something creaked downstairs, and she bolted up and ran to the shadows, compartmentalizing her thoughts and sealing them with 43 locks and 5 vibranium gates.

He hid at her hideout and waited for her, contemplating his next move. He didn't want to kill her, he admitted. He had stopped wanting to kill her a week ago, he realized. But he had to, and while some of her targets deserved to die, so many more were innocent. He saw her enter and his heart sank. He had half a mind to ask Coulson to call him off the mission, but he didn't feel all right about that, either.

He could easily plant a bomb, or throw in a trick arrow. But they deserved a fair fight. He refused to kill her of all people with a long-range shot. He formed a rough plan in his head and buried his trusted bow and arrows before scaling the walls and leaping into the building. He jumped once, to make noise and alert her to his presence. He had barely taken another step when –

"Are you here to kill me, Agent Barton?" Natasha whispered into Clint's ear.

"That's the plan," he smirked, whirling around. A makeshift bow materialized from his protective gear. An arrow was pointed at her throat. She narrowed her eyes slightly. She hadn't been expecting a goddamn bow to suddenly appear from his armor.

She grabbed his arrow and tried to stab him, but he caught her hand and twisted her arm. She did a flip, wringing her hand from his grasp. He swung his bow at her. She pulled back a moment too late and the tip of the bow left an angry red mark on her cheek. Clenching her teeth she grabbed the bow, breaking it easily. She smirked.

He shrugged. "Whatd'ja expect, it was collapsible."

He whipped out a knife and swung it at her, cutting the holster from her leg. Her gun clattered to the floor and he kicked it away. Natasha snarled and grabbed one of her many knives. She didn't need a gun to kill him. Hell, she didn't even need a knife to kill him.

But it was more fun that way.

She threw her knife at him and he ducked, sweeping his leg under her. She fell back but immediately leaped up and jumped at him to wrap her legs around his neck.

Instead he rolled with her, throwing her to the floor. She rolled away to reassess the situation.

He was smiling. "You are quite fun to kill, Natasha."

"Wouldn't be alive if I wasn't," she replied, returning the grin.

"Too bad I'm the best," Clint said, as he summoned another bow and arrow from his armor. He shot immediately, pinning Natasha by her sleeve to the wall. She threw a knife, aimed at his heart, to distract him while she freed herself, but he ducked and slammed her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her.

He had her pinned down. She knew she couldn't free herself so she started to grind against him, letting lust cloud her eyes. Then she stopped, looking away as if embarrassed. He would get distracted, try to make a smooth move, and then she'd kill him and be done with this. She peered up at him but unlike all other men she had killed before there was no hunger in his eyes. Instead he held a dagger at her throat.

"I know what you're doing," he whispered.

"Then kill me already," she snarled.

"You're afraid."

The Black Widow did a double take. "Don't kid yourself," she snapped, but inside she was utterly amazed and confused by the man looming over her.

"You're more than this cold assassin, and you know that."

"What is this, an appeal to my morality," she hissed. Get a grip, she thought – he had spent less than five minutes with her but he was already getting under her skin.

He held her eyes in his. She knew it was impossible but it felt like he was reading her mind… "Be my partner."

She, the Black Widow, snorted. Actually snorted. "If you're not going to kill me, stop wasting my time."

"I'm not going to kill you," Clint said in an after-thought. He smiled inwardly. There was his decision. "I can…" he paused dangerously, "but do you really want your life to be nothing but one meaningless murder after another? For no purpose except the pursuit of money that you will never touch or even need?"

She struggled to keep an impassive face.

"I know – I've been there. I can help you. It's not too late for you –"

"Agent Barton, report on status."

She narrowed her eyes and Clint knew she had heard.

"Code Orange."

"Code – what the hell – that request is _not_ authorized, Clint!" Coulson's normally controlled voice sounded… panicked, almost. "Look, we got a Quinjet aimed at the building, give the word and we'll finish –" Clint ripped the earpiece out of his ear.

Natasha struggled out of Clint's grip but he held her there, throwing her a threatening glare.

"Come join SHIELD," he said.

"Over my dead body."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Fine." Clint straightened and released her. "Get out of here, and hurry."

Shock was written all over her face. "I – I owe you," she said finally, as if the words pained her.

Clint grinned. "Get out of here, Natasha."

And she was gone.


	3. Bucky

Title: James: The First Encounter

Time: During Captain America: The First Avenger

"Romanova, this is James Barnes, the sergeant."

Natalia didn't look up from her book. "What's that got to do with me?"

"He'll be under your care."

"I have no time to waste on training new recruits!" she hissed, jumping up. "Do it yourself – don't dump him on me."

"Natalia… 5, 4,"

"3, 2, 1," she finished automatically. Her face turned impassive. "Define 'under my care,'" she said.

"Feed him, wash him, teach him, spar with him… whatever it takes. Nothing like love to keep a man loyal," he said. "He's out cold now, so be sure to be the first thing he sees." He left without waiting for a reply.

… In short, be his partner, she thought. How fun.

She looked him over. He was handsome and fit; he was probably used to having it easy with the girls. But he would be lonely here, and apprehensive if not scared…

A person formulated in her head. A frightened, scarred American prisoner who had come to Europe to find her long-lost… (brother? Father? Mother.)… mother but had been captured, instead. Losing a close loved one, being a prisoner, scared and alone… she was certain they'd be able to find enough shared life experience.

She ran her hand through her hair and tugged at her clothes, making her appearance less crisp and polished and more desperate. She approached him and reached out to cup his cheek…

His eyes snapped open, and she jerked back, acting horrified and embarrassed. "I—I'm sorry, I was just curious… they told me to look after you and I –" she stopped, letting her face turn red. "My name's Na—" oh crap, Americanize my name! she thought "—tasha. Natasha."

He stared at her, but gentleness was quickly replacing suspicion. "Hello Natasha, I'm James. But you can call me Bucky."

She shyly extended her hand, and he shook it, smiling. Typical men, underestimating women and expecting them all to be helpless fools…

"What a mess we've gotten into, eh?" he said.

"Oh… it – it isn't so bad – if you obey," she said, looking away.

"I swear, Natasha, we will make it out of here. I'm sure help is coming."

Natalia smiled bitterly; had Bucky been a particularly perceptive spy, he would have seen a glint of mockery in her eyes. "I thought that too, at first. But it's been three months… and…" she turned away, hugging herself. "I'm sorry. Maybe they'll come for you – they told me you were a sergeant. You're more important."

He stayed silent. He was remembering something, she realized. Whom had he left behind? "Well if… when they come, we'll take you along too." He sat up and for the first time since he woke up, noticed that a metal contraption had replaced his left arm. He widened his eyes but managed to suppress his strangled cry. "Why are they keeping us?" he squeezed out.

A glint of respect flashed through Natalia's eyes, but she remained in character. "I don't know… they've been running tests…"

"Tests? What tests?"

"Some… some superhum –"

"Super human? Super soldier serums?!"

Natalia gasped. "You mean – like"

"Like Steve… like Captain America."

"Did you know him?"

"He was like family to me."

The door slammed open and both Bucky and Natalia jumped.

"Restrain him," the man ordered. "And take her."

"Natasha!"

"It's okay! I'll be okay!" she said. As soon as the door closed behind her she threw the measly guards off of her.

"Touch me again, boys… I dare you," she said, smiling innocently.

"Natalia, my child." It was Ivan Petrovitch – Natalia felt her face harden. She forced a respectful nod in his direction. The last time she had seen him…

 _"Natalia, my child," Ivan whispered, looming over her. She was lying handcuffed to her bed, like she had been every night in the Red Room._

Oh no you don't, she thought. Shut up, she told herself firmly.

"You'll be heading out in 2 hours – some super soldier, 'Captain _America_ ,' seems to be giving our HYDRA allies some difficulties… and unless he is stopped, Schmidt won't deliver."


	4. Partners

Title: Budapest II

Time: Pre-Avengers

 _The Red Room was strange, to say the least, but Natalia was a fast learner. And it wasn't like she had any memories of any other reality. Every day followed a routine: they (Natalia and the other "recruits") woke up at a random time each day to the sound of gunshots. They were fed food infused with a gazillion different poisons so that they could develop toxin resistance. Then came training, consisting of lessons, sparring, and oddly enough, dancing. They studied primarily ballet, but also every dance known to man… "To properly seduce," they were told._

 _Each day the lessons focused on a particular weapon. Today, finally, after knives, toothbrush, rope, hands, and pen, was guns._

 _There were just ten girls remaining from the fifty that had started the program. Karenin was standing behind a table with two guns._

 _"Single file, ladies," he drawled. They formed a line silently and quickly._

 _He picked up one of the guns and motioned toward the first girl in line, Natalia. "Pick up the gun," he ordered._

 _She stepped forward and grasped the weapon in her hands, testing the weight and feeling its every surface. She looked up at him questioningly. He calmly pointed the gun to her head. She tensed. Fear chilled her but she managed to keep an impassive face._

 _"Shoot yourself, here," he tapped her leg, "or die."_

 _She didn't move._

 _"You have ten seconds," he said, cocking the gun._

 _Natalia gripped her gun. She knew the real test here was if she could take the shot without screaming…_

 _She mentally steeled herself, and unblinking, she pulled the trigger._

 _Pain shot through her and she crumpled. Her leg felt like it had exploded away from her. She could hardly think, hardly even remember who she was or where she was. Her lip was bleeding from her biting down on it, but she had passed the test; she had kept quiet._

 _Karenin looked bored. He twirled his gun once in his hand before shooting at the side of Natalia's stomach. The bullet whizzed through her, ripping her flesh and –_

Natasha jerked awake, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her stomach and leg were throbbing, as if her wounds had resurfaced and she rubbed her hands along her body, reassuring herself that it had really been just a dream.

Her Red Room dreams had more or less stopped for the past few months, she thought as she calmed down, but they had been recurring every night since…

 _"I'm not going to kill you," the SHIELD agent said. "I can…" he paused dangerously, "but do you really want your life to be nothing but one meaningless murder after another? For no purpose except the pursuit of money that you will never touch or even need?"_

She threw the sheets off of her bed in disgust. That was what her life was, and how could she help it? She had been unmade and made again for that very purpose.

But she _was_ trying, she told herself. She was trying to clear her ledger, to eradicate the Red Room forever so that no one else would have to go through what she and the others… no, only her. She had killed all the rest…

 _"1 hour, girls. There are six of you, now let me think… oh, yes, only_ one _will exit this room. The rest, well, you can decide how you want to… prevent the rest from leaving the room. Otherwise," he gestured around the room. "The room will implode and all of you will die. Do not disappoint me."_

 _The door clanged shut and Natalia heard multiple locks slide into place. Escape would be futile._

 _She did not hesitate. She lunged at the girl to her right, ripping at her hair._

 _"Help!" the girl cried. "If we take her down first we'll all have a better chance!"_

 _Natalia squeezed her eyes shut as the other girls leaped at her, trying to gouge her eyes out. She didn't need her eyes to fight – she'd been watching them, studying them. She knew exactly how to take them down. She didn't waste time with her more acrobatic kill moves, even though her favorite move was squeezing her thighs around her opponent and spinning them to the ground. She threw down the girl who had cried out and stomped on her throat, then dug her nails into another's neck, relishing the feeling of the thick blood that coated her fingers. The rest was a blur – her next coherent thought was when she lunged and hit nothing but thin air. She opened her eyes, barely hearing the instructor's cold appraisal of her performance. She became suddenly aware of how_ red _she had become. Blood stained her hair, her teeth, her fingers and her legs._

 _"You have just started your ledger, Black Widow. Every addition a tribute to your country, every name a sign of your worth. Now get yourself cleaned up, your first mission starts in two hours."_

 _Her ledger… the words echoed in her head as she walked mechanically to her quarters. They persisted as she peeled off her clothes and let the water rush over her. A stranger would think it odd, a teenage girl enjoying a perfectly normal shower while contemplating crushing guilt. She had been trained to ignore and suppress her emotions that she could no longer connect her inner feelings to her outer self. Her true feelings always felt like ill-fitting clothes._

They had all had the same names. It was funny, she thought, she'd killed herself five times that day. A small sigh escaped her, but she mustered up the strength to get up. She had a ledger to clear and a debt to repay – and of the two, the second was just more up her alley.

oOoOo

Someone was watching him. He had a hunch who it was, but he surprisingly didn't seem concerned that a master assassin was trailing him – he didn't want to scare her away, either.

He was still on pretty shitty missions as punishment for letting the Black Widow live, even though he had _told_ Director Fury that she had knocked him out with her Widow's Bites (that had been a fun experience, screaming into the comm and giving himself a nasty bruise on his head – all for nothing, since Fury had seen through the lie).

 _"You're not letting me make any kills with my bow?! For three months?! Coulson, that's cruel and unusual punishment."_

 _"Hm, should've thought of that before letting the world's deadliest assassin slip through your fingers."_

 _"Aw c'mon, Coulson. How many times do I have to tell you?_ Second _deadliest assassin."_

Clint grinned and pulled on his combat boots. He'd already broken the no-bow rule – no one could keep him from his soulmate. But he had to admit that his sniper rifle was better suited for this low-key take-out.

He sneaked out his window and scaled the walls of the narrow alley to the roof, where he jogged and leaped across rooftops to his position. And his jaw dropped.

"That son-of-a—!"

oOoOo

He was waiting for her when she returned. She paused at the door, using the door to partly shield herself.

"Can I help you?" she spat out – there was no way he thought of her as anything but a cold-hearted assassin.

 _"You're more than this cold assassin, and you know that."_ Or maybe…

"You took out my target," he said dangerously, taking a step toward her.

"No need to thank me, I… owe you," she said more softly.

"Thank you? _Thank_ you? Romanov, I was supposed to take him out _with prejudice_. That guy was scum! Geez, I was really looking forward to putting a bullet in him! You spoiled all my fun, Romanov, what do you say to that?" he plopped down on her bed.

She blinked. She hadn't been expecting that response. "Well, suck it."

"… if it helps, it was a neck shot," she added after a moment, emerging from the doorway. Man, her character was spinning out of control – who was she even trying to be?

"With _prejudice!_ " he repeated.

"You look tired," he said, and she inwardly squirmed. Such a steady, scrutinizing gaze.

"Oh well, you know," she said sarcastically. "Nightmares."

"Every night," he agreed.

"What are you doing here, Barton?"

"Well, I'm out here doing boring missions because I let you go, and you just finished the most interesting part of my job for me… so I'm here to recruit you, so they can dump on you instead of me." He grinned.

"You're still on that, huh?" she smiled and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"Wait – wait, really? Are you coming with me?"

Her lips curved into in a somehow genuine smile and walked out the door without another word.


End file.
